“Hello?” Melinda answered on the first ring. On hearing who it was she let out a stream of words so fast and so inconsequential, Micki nearly held the phone from her ear. Her nephew had just started walking. Melinda’s sister just had her hair foiled, with blue highlights of all things. Melinda herself was thinking of taking a class in conversational Spanish.
Through the burst of words, she gleaned that Melinda and some friends would be listening to some music at the Seattle Center that afternoon. “It’s a group my cousin is in. You should come too. They’re awesome, you’ll just love them. They play all kinds of songs. We can pick you up,” Melinda added.
“No,” Micki replied quickly. She didn’t want to commit to going, or be dependent on a ride if she did go but decided to leave early. “Thanks for offering. It’s not a big venue. If I can make it, I’ll look for you.”
“We’ll save you a seat,” Melinda volunteered. “Hope we see you there.”
Micki hung the phone up slowly and wrapped her arms around herself. The phone call left her lonelier than ever before. Melinda’s babbling couldn’t fill the enormous void rising in her. What she really wanted to do was to call Jan. Form a real friendship again. Of all the things she missed in her new, vagabond lifestyle, she missed having a friend the most. Someone like Jan who would actually listen to her, who would share moments of true understanding with her. And tell me about Adam, she admitted wryly. Oh well. I better leave that one alone.
She sighed. She was on her own and she was blasted well going to enjoy it!
She peeked out the window. She loved Seattle weather, but this gave her no thrill. Cool and breezy and with clouds swirling and flurries of rain. She grimaced. It would be a good day to stay at home, if only she could find some peace here.
A green Jaguar rounded the corner. Micki gasped and drew back quickly from the window. “Adam,” she whispered. “No.”
She ran back to her bedroom and closed the door to just a crack, leaning against the wall. There was a forceful rap on the door. “Micki. I know you’re in there! Open up! Open the door.” His voice was commanding, but not as sharp as it had been on the phone.
Her face flushed. She put her hands up to cool her cheeks, but they didn’t feel hot, they felt icy cold. She lowered her hands back behind her back and shrank against the bedroom wall.
A couple more raps and the noise stopped. She didn’t need to move out to the window to make sure he was gone. The slam of his car door and the screech of his tires were loud enough to alert the entire neighborhood.
“Oh, God.” Her head was whirling. “I’ve got to get out of here. I can’t let myself be trapped in my own apartment.” She took a deep breath, then couldn’t stop herself from tiptoeing out to the living room, over to the wall beside the windows and leaning over to peer out. No shiny Jaguar. No sign of Adam.
She straightened. “The concert it is,” she said aloud. “I just have to thank my lucky stars Melinda asked me.”
But still she didn’t move. Her head seemed caught in a fog and everything seemed so impossibly difficult. First, she had to get ready. She had to actually get dressed and leave the house. Navigate her car through the streets. Parking at Seattle Center could be difficult.
Feeling remarkably incompetent, she listed aloud what she needed to do, matching each item with the appropriate action. “Socks and shoes.” She slipped on her sneakers, her movements slow. “Sweater. Raincoat. Purse. Brush my hair.” She took a deep breath. “That’s all I need.”
She grimaced at her reflection in the mirror and added some makeup. After all, she may not be trying to attract the attention of strangers, but she wasn’t trying to terrify them either.
She continued her list. “Make it out the door and to the car.” She glanced out the window again, then cautiously opened the door, feeling like a fool. Adam wasn’t anywhere in sight. And after all, it wasn’t as if he was going to stake out the place, was it? She managed a shaky laugh, locked the front door and darted to her car. Finally, with all the car doors locked, she took another breath. Safe again, behind four walls. She started the car and drove the side roads down to the Center.
The concert was not too crowded. Not a bad showing for a new band, but plenty of room for a good view of the stage. Melinda was already seated, with three friends by her side. One, with happy eyes, endless prattle and blue highlights in her hair was immediately identifiable as a sister.
Micki took a seat on the end with the sweet tunes of an electric guitar buzzing through her ears.
“Aren’t they awesome?” Melinda leaned forward to talk to Micki. “I just love them. I have all their songs on my iPod. I listen to them all the time.” Taking her agreement for granted, Melinda introduced Micki around, then leaned back in her chair and continued chatting with her sister and other friends.
Not a bad distraction, Micki congratulated herself as she settled into her seat. They really aren’t bad, thank goodness. And at least I made it out of my apartment.
The music was good, but she still felt restless. She glanced around at the crowd. Everyone seemed so active, so busy with their friends, or absorbed in the music. Everyone except her. She glanced over toward Melinda and felt a thick cold wall rising between herself and her new companions.
“How is it possible to be surrounded by so many people and still be so lonely?” Her tears blended in with the rain still wet on her face. A woman nearby in a bright red turtleneck and jeans, with a young child in her arms, sent Micki an inquiring glance, as if wondering if she needed sympathy. Micki forced a reassuring smile directed toward the woman, lifted her chin and turned her eyes resolutely toward the band. She didn’t want sympathy. She was Micki Vaughn and she was in charge of her own destiny. She was living her life exactly the way she wanted. Exactly the way she knew she had to.
Chapter Eight
Adam pulled into the marina parking lot, his hands clenched tightly around the wheel, his mood matching the blustery gray day. Waving away the attendant’s gesture to help, he pulled his gear from the trunk and strode toward his boat. Desire to be on his boat nearly overwhelmed him. He needed to sail with Wind Dancer, to get out into the fresh salt air and clear his head.
His head was down as he walked down the dock, but when he turned the last corner his head came up and a smile flitted across his face, temporarily easing his scowl. Wind Dancer was waiting for him, her lines comfortingly sleek and familiar, rocking gently in the slip. He smiled with relief and paused his rapid pace to touch the smooth teak along the trim, then stepped on board, dropped his gear in the cabin and started the engine.
The wind whipped in gusts, whirling past him. Around the marina, halyards jangled against masts in a noisy cacophony. He took care to compensate for the pressure of the wind against the boat’s mast and rigging as he eased Wind Dancer out of her slip and into the traffic lane.
Outside the shelter of the marina’s walls, he turned his boat into the wind and jumped up to the deck to hoist the mainsail.
The pleasure he felt from this activity reverberated through him to his very bones. The strength of the wind, the sting of the spray, the smell of the salt air, the feel of the cold metal winch handle against his hands. Once the mainsail was up, it was with even greater pleasure that he turned the boat north and felt it respond, a giant powerful creature brought under his control and, for a time, graciously agreeing to take him where he wanted. They were a team, harnessing the wind to do their bidding and it felt good.
The sea was choppy, with the blasting wind fighting against the tides, causing the boat to slam down hard in the water. Adam heard the water drumming heavily against the hull and pushed the boat farther to the north, into the churning weather. Tightening the sails as she moved, he savored the blustering uproar of the boat beating even more heavily into the wind. Not the most efficient way to trim the boat, but he wanted to feel the power of the wind and the water, the sting as the rain whipped across his face.
Through the week, he had felt his brows f
urrowing deeper and deeper, until the worry lines were definitely creased into place. Now he needed to let go of it all and let the wind and rain wash the worry out of his life.
He had been out in this boat at other stressful times in his life and Wind Dancer had never let him down, had always helped him through his troubles. When he’d found his erstwhile fiancée with another man, that had been a really rough time. He’d restrained his anger until he’d wrapped up his latest business deal and taken off for a cruise to the straits and inlets of the San Juan Islands and out into the Canadian Gulf Islands, sailing as far and as fast as he could.
Now, at least, he was alive in the moment. He stayed on the northerly heading for nearly an hour, changing course only occasionally to avoid the other boat traffic, letting the wind and the rain and the currents work the anger and frustration through his system. Wind Dancer knew how to respond to him. Gave him everything he needed. Unlike the women in his life!
His temper dissipating, he turned the boat to a gentler heading, one where he wasn’t fighting the weather so directly. He sighed as the noise lessened, the roar of the water changing from a powerful rush and slap to a quiet, comfortable lapping.
Why the hell couldn’t Micki respond to him? Even just talk to him? He slammed the palm of his hand on the teak railing, then regretted the impulse and touched the rail again, gently. It wasn’t like he was asking so much from Micki. A chance to talk to her, to apologize and then to move on and rebuild their relationship.
But how was that supposed to happen when she wouldn’t pick up the phone? She wouldn’t even answer the door. She had been home when he had come by, he’d have bet money on it. That is, if one could call that lifeless apartment a home. He could have sworn he had seen movement in the window as he had driven up. He snorted.
“Damn it!” he shouted out up to the sky.
The wind whipped his words out of his mouth to the far reaches of Puget Sound and he shouted again, even louder this time.
“Damn it!”
And just what kind of a mystery girl did she think she was, any way? Hiding away in that empty, sterile excuse of an apartment, running away from city to city, from job to job. Even running away from him, for heaven’s sake. What kind of a life is that?
He liked the words and shouted them out to the welcoming sky. “What kind of a life is that?”
He lifted one hand from the wheel, running it over his forehead, wiping off the rain water with it. He’d called. He’d pleaded. Sent flowers. Dropped by. And she ignored him. This was not the reaction he expected from a woman.
Did he really need a mystery girl? She was pretty and interesting of course, but there were several women in his directory who fit that bill. Without conceit, he knew they’d be quite happy to hear his voice on the line. Money and reasonably good looks could do that for a fellow. Quite charming women, some of them, who would know how a man likes to spend a Saturday night.
But none of them had Micki’s laughing eyes, her bravado, her charm. Her incredible unpredictable contradictions.
Besides, Micki needed him.
The thought came out of the blue and he turned it around in his mind for a while. She was obviously hurt, obviously running. And she had no one else to turn to. That he knew of, he amended. Who could possibly understand a woman like Micki, take the time to bring her out of her shell and under control. Show her the way life ought to be lived.
Well, only me, of course, he thought. He smiled a little at the vanity, but it was true. She had no one else in her life.
He turned the wheel, following the wind and the highs and lows of the choppy water.
Of course, maybe she was just playing him. He could feel the familiar surge of anger rising in him at the thought of betrayal. If she was lying… He forced himself to relax and examine the idea calmly, turning the angles over in his head.
Was she playing him like his fiancée had? Playing him like his mother had played his father? But why? What on earth would she be getting out of it? And actually, he had to admit with a rueful smile, she was actually doing the opposite of playing him. Where his fiancée and his mother had been kind to one’s face, they were sneaking around their loved ones’ backs. Gaining the wealth and the prestige associated with the Laurence family, without staying faithful. Micki, on the other hand, was rejecting everything he had to offer.
Okay, so that was out. What else was possible?
Maybe she was running away just to pique his interest. If so, it was certainly working. But then he remembered the terror in her eyes, the feel of her heart pounding against his chest and dropped that idea. If she was that good an actress, she’d be in Hollywood making millions of dollars for every picture, not working eight to five for a living. No, she was definitely terrified of commitment.
The only explanation that made sense to him was that she had experienced some sort of violence and it had made her unable to trust men or form lasting relationships. Micki had sworn she had no ex-boyfriends hiding in the wings, but there was obviously some issue involving an ex. What could anyone have done to cause such an anguished reaction?
A tough nut to crack, she had called herself. And she had seemed quite pleased with that.
He stared straight ahead as the boat sailed on through the Sound. Maybe it was time to give up. To simply admit he wasn’t the man she needed to overcome her past.
But then I’d be backing down from a dare. He felt a smile curve his mouth as he remembered their conversation. It had been his own dare, to play the game of love. It had been that line that had piqued Micki’s interest. She would never forgive him for backing down from a dare. Besides, as Micki had said the night they met, what’s the use of a dare when you have nothing to lose?
Well things can change. His approach could change. That, at least, was one thing he was in control of.
So what to do?
I could hire a P.I., he thought. Have someone study her for a few days, research her, follow her. They’d bring over a nice tidy package of her background and lay it in a bundle on my desk. Once I know her past, it would be so much easier to find a way to reach heart.
His eyes were bleak as he considered that option. He had done that once before, after he’d found his fiancée cheating, just to find out the extent of her deception and what the other man had meant to her. That neat little package of photos and notes had brought no pleasure at all. He hadn’t even managed to read most of it, tossing it into the back of a file cabinet.
No. That wasn’t the way to understand Micki. Facts are just facts. What he really needed was her interpretation of what had happened in her past. He needed to get close enough that she would voluntarily share her pain with him.
So far, he’d gone too far, too fast. That was overwhelmingly obvious.
I need to start treating this as a business problem, of course. I’ve been treating it as a romantic problem and that’s all wrong. I have a goal and that goal is to have Micki by my side. She has put up an obstacle I haven’t been able to get around. What are a couple of options?
His first thought was to ignore the objections she’d raised. He’d pretty much tried doing that, with his first phone calls, his flowers and his visit, all with a marked lack of success. No, he definitely had to find some way to work with Micki on this, not bully his way around her.
He could team up with someone else to remove the obstacle. The only slight problem with this was that there was no one to team up with. Well, except, maybe Jan. As Micki’s boss and friend, Jan held some clout with her, even if Micki did plan on leaving her job in a few months.
Better still. Adam felt his enthusiasm growing. He could go even higher than Jan. He’d made several friends at Jan’s company, including the president and most of the board. That was one of the perks of saving a company a bit of money.
A slow smile worked its way over his face as his plan began to take form. Oh, yes. This was definitely the way to go. A combination of all of the above. He’d start with a nice talk with the company
president about rounding up a little work in the office, move on to a discussion about Micki with Jan and, of course, more sweet-talking to Micki. Only this time, he wouldn’t be talking behind the phone line or her closed apartment door. This time he’d talk to her at work, up close and personal, where she had nowhere to run. Right where he wanted her.
He smiled his pleasure at having worked through the problem and his eyes glinted as he slowly turned the wheel and adjusted the lines to head back toward the marina. Beautiful Micki, you most certainly haven’t seen the last of me. Not by a long shot.
Chapter Nine
“Good morning, gorgeous.”
Micki’s head snapped up from the technical article she was reviewing to see Adam lounging against her office doorjamb. Filling the entire entrance, his long legs and broad shoulders effectively blocked any view of the hallway. He wore a black suit, made with luxurious, softly tailored wool and a crisp, white linen shirt. He looked smooth, sexy and decidedly dangerous. Her lips formed a silent O of pleasure at the sight, then she hastily snapped her mouth shut, not wanting Adam to get the wrong idea at her reaction. She definitely could not risk dating him again.
Adam smiled in satisfaction at her expression. “Cat got your tongue?”
“Adam!” She finally managed to speak and schooled her face into a disapproving frown. “What in the world are you doing here?”
“I’m here for a business meeting, of course.” His voice held the undercurrent of humor she remembered and loved. Micki’s heart began beating faster and, in spite of herself, she could feel a warm flush creep up her neck. His smile widened.
She ignored his response and repeated her earlier question. “But what are you doing here? This is my office.”
“Yes, I know,” he said patiently. “The receptionist told me. That’s why I’m here.” He glanced around with obvious disfavor. Technical manuals, cables, connectors and the odd network card were scattered on every available surface, along with screwdrivers and various electronic troubleshooting tools. “It’s more interesting than your apartment, I grant you that. But I don’t see any personal touches here, either. Where in the world do you keep your pictures and your little do-dads?”
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